Макс Коллинз - Shoot the Moon (and more)

And if you buy that, I got some jewelry in the car to show you.

I was not supposed to be in Sue Ann’s bed. I was supposed to be sitting on a bench in the park, watching things, the bank in particular.

But I was glad I was in Sue Ann’s bed, and not just for the obvious reasons, either. I was glad to get Sue Ann away from that crowded park, where she would be likely to introduce me to more and more of her friends, where eventually the streaking bit was bound to come up, in which case I could find myself all of a sudden a minor celebrity. The center of attention. Which clearly wouldn’t do.

Furthermore, I had no choice but to follow Sue Ann wherever she might choose to lead me (even into bed) because my presence in Wynning was explainable to her only by my being there to see her. So what else could I do but see her?

The unpleasant coincidence of her father being the local banker seemed somewhat irrelevant, as far as the immediate situation was concerned. It had its good side in that Sue Ann and I were guaranteed privacy in their house; but it also had its bad side, as eventually Sue Ann might discover the real purpose for my presence in Wynning, and her opinion of me would probably change.

At any rate, there was nothing I could do about being stuck in Sue Ann’s bed except enjoy myself. I even began to think everything might work out for the good, should Elam and Hopp get themselves caught and have the courtesy not to implicate Wheat and me. After all, I had an excuse for being here. Sue Ann. And Wheat had an excuse for being here, too: he was my friend, and along for the ride.

So I began to loosen up a little, put the worrying aside for a while, though the credit for that had to go to Sue Ann. I whole-heartedly recommend a few hours in bed with a beautiful girl to any guy caught up in a hopeless mess. It’s a terrific way to get your mind off your problems.

After that first hour in bed, Sue Ann asked me if I’d like some lunch.

Cotton candy was all I`d had to eat today, and since I seemed to have worked up an appetite somehow or other, I accepted her offer and we went down to the kitchen where Sue Ann made a submarine sandwich, a huge one stuffed with cheese and salami and lettuce and tomatoes and sweet peppers, and we shared it.

Sue Ann was sitting across the table from me, nibbling at her sandwich, wearing a baby blue terrycloth robe (I was in a similar, white robe — her father’s — and I admit I didn’t feel particularly comfortable wearing it). In between nibbles, she’d ask me questions about myself. Was I still in college? What were my plans when I got out? Did I have any other, serious girl friend? Questions like that. It was pleasant answering such questions. Made me feel alive again. I asked her what her aspirations were. She wanted to be either an actress or a wife. If the latter, she’d like to be married to an actor or somebody else famous or rich or both. She’d been going with a Shaker Saltz type named Bo Bo Harper, a Little All-American football player, but they had broken up several weeks ago, and for good: he was heading off to Michigan State on a scholarship and wanted to “date around” but Sue Ann was all or nothing, monogamous or forget it, Bo Bo. Her immediate plans were college at the University of Iowa, since she had graduated from high school that June.

The conversation went on like that. Nothing spectacular. I remember every word of it, and could bore you with it if you insist. But why not just leave it this way: we were getting to know each other, in a backwards way I admit, since we’d just come down from her bedroom; but nevertheless getting to know each other is what we were doing.

The impression Sue Ann had given me, up till now, was that she was not terribly bright and was somewhat conceited. Now that I was getting to know her better, I found I’d been right.

I also found I liked her.

For one thing, she was beautiful. The Sue Ann Wynnings of the world have not generally invited me to their bedrooms so early in the game. Or late in the game, either, if you must know. So her being beautiful, and her willingness to share her beauty with me, had a lot to do with my forgiving her flaws.

That is, if you consider her being less than genius material a flaw. The dumb blonde stereotype has always been attractive to me, and if Sue Ann fit that stereotype a little, it only enhanced her beauty in my eyes. And besides, she was no dummy. She was an A- student in high school, she said (although with her looks even her grade average may have come easy) and I began to realize her dumb blonde appearance was at least partially an appealing affectation, made so by the naive, practically childlike side of her which gave her an aura of innocence even as she was inviting me under the covers with her.

That same quality of innocence took the edge off her conceit, too. She was pleased with her good looks, but not obnoxious about it.

Anyway, after lunch we went back to bed, and then after while I did something that was very, very stupid.

I fell asleep.

Voices woke me.

I sat up, startled. Startled to hear voices. Startled to find I’d fallen asleep.

It was dark in the room. That startled me, too. Where was the sunlight? This morning and afternoon, sunlight had filtered in through the semi-sheer curtains. Where was it now? I got out of bed, went to the window, parted the curtains. Darkness.

Also known as night.

Meanwhile, the voices were continuing. A male voice. And Sue Ann’s voice. Seemed to be coming from the living room, which was down the hall, down a brief flight of steps to the lower part of the split level. I could make out no words. Just Sue Ann’s voice and a male voice.

A low, rumbling, mature-sounding male voice. An older man’s voice.

Damn!

Her father?

That couldn’t be her father, could it?

I decided to put on my clothes.

I decided also to make the bed.

Then I went to the dresser and pulled the chair out and sat down and tried to think.

I had fallen asleep. Okay. An idiotic thing to do, but understandable. I’d had little or no sleep the night before. I’d spent the morning getting caught up in a situation that became ever more taxing with each turn of the screw.

So I had dozed off. But for how long?

A clock on Sue Ann’s dresser answered my question: it was a quarter after eight.

Which meant I’d slept for around seven hours.

Seven hours! I felt numb at the thought. I felt like passing out, but I couldn’t allow myself the luxury: it might be another seven hours before I came out of it!

I wondered what had happened while I was asleep.

I wondered what Wheat was up to. I wondered how Elam had made out as a fill-in cook. I wondered how well Hopp had managed to disappear into a bingo game that I assumed must’ve otherwise consisted of little old ladies.

I wondered if anyone had discovered the people tied up in the bank.

I wondered if one of those people belonged to the deep male voice talking to Sue Ann down in the bowels of the house.

I wondered if they let you play cards in prison.

Footsteps.

The door opened.

Sue Ann.

She was wearing a scoop-neck calico blue tee-shirt top, and snug-fitting blue jeans. She looked cute and sexy and a little tired.

She smiled and came over and gave me a kiss. Not a hot one this time. Just a hello kiss.

She said, “I see you’re up and dressed. And you made the bed, too. I bet you heard me talking to Uncle Phil and got scared, didn’t you! Don’t be such a silly. Come on down and say hi.”

“Do you, uh, think that’s wise?”

“My uncle doesn’t care what I do with my boy friends, silly. He’s very hip. But, heck, you know that. I mean, you’ve met him before.”